


stay true to north

by honeycbx



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycbx/pseuds/honeycbx
Summary: "even when i look away i am still looking."- richard siken, portrait of fryderyk in shifting lightkyuhyun dreams of seeing the stars. ryeowook dreams of seeing the world. they make it work.
Relationships: Cho Kyuhyun/Kim Ryeowook
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. departure.

**Author's Note:**

> back with more of... whatever this is. it took me forever because i struggled with kyuhyun's pov for a while, started and restarted a bunch, and ended up somehow with this. if you like pining and dramatics, you're in the right place. probably.
> 
> title from red desert by 5 seconds of summer.

kyuhyun dreams of stars.

***

when he turns, he finds ryeowook’s camera right in his face, _again_.

“ah, you…” at the last second, he manages not to swear. ryeowook looks at him, eyes bright in an attempt to pass for innocent. kyuhyun changes course. “you film too much. you’re not even going to use this.”

“you don’t know that,” ryeowook says, in a tone that implies that he says it mostly to be contrary, but he at least puts the camera down.

that turns out to be a temporary relief; as soon as kyuhyun returns his attention to the albums in front of him, the camera is back on him.

“kyuhyun-ah,” ryeowook says. kyuhyun ignores him. “kyukyu.”

“ _what_ , ryeowook?” kyuhyun snaps. ryeowook beams, delighted, and kyuhyun deflates. “what do you want?”

“can you do this for me?” ryeowook asks, and demonstrates crossing his fingers. 

kyuhyun tries it. “like this?”

even if kyuhyun weren’t intimately attuned to ryeowook’s moods, it would be impossible to miss the sheer joy he radiates as he arranges kyuhyun’s hand to his liking. “do it again for the camera.”

kyuhyun does it again, thoroughly confused, but ryeowook is so happy that kyuhyun finds it hard to care.

***

kyuhyun manages to punch in the door code on his second try, fingers uncooperative. the door flies open before he can turn the handle, and for a second kyuhyun suspects he might have developed mind powers.

then his vision focuses on ryeowook, haloed strangely by the soft light from the kitchen.

“are you drunk?” ryeowook asks, sounding mildly disapproving. it doesn’t bother kyuhyun. it _shouldn’t_ , anyway, because kyuhyun is thirty-two years old and he’s fully capable of making his own decisions, but somehow it still stings. 

“a little,” he tries, but ryeowook can read him better than anyone else on the planet.

“you know we have a schedule tomorrow morning,” ryeowook says. it’s not a question, because ryeowook _knows_ that kyuhyun knows. kyuhyun isn’t that careless, as much as he sometimes wishes he could be. but he has too much at stake here to be careless.

kyuhyun’s phone begins to ring, saving kyuhyun from having to formulate an answer. recognizing the ringtone, he fumbles for his phone in his pocket, but his fingers still aren’t working. he frowns. ryeowook rolls his eyes and then his hand dips into kyuhyun’s pocket, retrieving his phone and answering it for him.

“hello?” kyuhyun uses ryeowook’s distraction to slip past him into the dorm and close the front door. “yes, he’s here. he’s a little out of it but otherwise fine. why?”

kyuhyun’s heart sinks into his stomach. he searches his brain, trying to turn up a reason for yunho to call—because it’s definitely not changmin on the phone, not when kyuhyun had left changmin barely coherent enough to string a sentence together—but he comes up empty. possibly because of the drunkenness. he curses himself mentally, and then allows himself a little verbal moment too, just because. “ _fuck_.”

ryeowook shoots him a dirty look, which if kyuhyun were anyone else he might find terrifying. as it stands, it’s kind of hot.

kyuhyun shakes his head to clear it, which only worsens the oncoming headache, and swears some more in his head.

“changmin said this,” ryeowook says, every word deliberate, and again it’s not quite a question because ryeowook already knows the answer. kyuhyun can barely breathe. “no, thank you for letting me know.”

fear rockets up on the list of ‘emotions kyuhyun is currently feeling’. the worst of it is that he doesn’t _know_ what he’s said to changmin tonight that would warrant enough concern on yunho’s part for a phone call, and to _ryeowook_ instead of to their leader. fuck that, actually, the worst of it is watching the expression on ryeowook’s face sour like milk as he looks at kyuhyun and listens to yunho. it’s an awful look, one kyuhyun’s seen before but never been on the receiving end of, because it’s ryeowook’s ‘exhausted but accepting’ look. it’s the one he gets when he’s been let down once again, and maybe he’s tired of it but he’s already long since resigned himself to the fact that there’s nothing to be done about the world’s endless string of terrible injustices, dealt to him one after another for years—

kyuhyun forces himself to breathe. he’s spiraling, and he knows it. this phone call might have nothing to do with kyuhyun’s night out with changmin. yunho is, after all, signed to the same company, and he operates in similar social circles. this phone call could pertain to any variety of news imaginable.

he breathes again. in his mind he centers the fact that ryeowook is on _his_ phone, meaning yunho hadn’t been attempting to reach ryeowook at all. he’d called kyuhyun, which means whatever news he’d wanted to share couldn’t be too awful.

unless yunho had called kyuhyun expecting him to be too drunk to answer. kyuhyun snaps that line of thought clean in half before it’s fully formed; he doubts yunho could pull off a plan with that much thought behind it, and anyway he’s not the kind of guy who goes for underhanded plays like that. 

kyuhyun breathes again, an act made more difficult by ryeowook’s unwavering stare, and that look that says he might be disappointed, but not all that surprised, as if he’s been waiting for kyuhyun to let him down. kyuhyun wants to scream, because he wouldn’t—he _couldn’t_ do that to ryeowook, not in a million years. he’d rather die than put ryeowook through the heartbreak.

either way, he _doesn’t_ scream, but it’s only because he finds his voice frozen in his throat.

“no, it’s alright,” ryeowook says gently. “i’ll talk to him in the morning. mhm. thank you, hyung. yes, i’ll see you then. good night.”

he hangs up, but doesn’t move for a moment, except to tap kyuhyun’s phone against the open palm of his free hand. kyuhyun feels pinned in place, half paper doll and half deer in the headlights, and unable to look away.

when it becomes clear that ryeowook isn’t going to break the silence, kyuhyun does it for him. “i don’t know what yunho said. i don’t even know what _i_ said. if it’s about—about tonight, and you’re mad, then i’m sorry, but at least—at least tell me what you’re mad about.”

ryeowook’s brows knit together. kyuhyun wants to kiss the creases of his forehead flat, and then to slap himself for thinking something so _stupid_. “i’m not mad.”

“you look mad,” kyuhyun points out, unable to help himself. ryeowook’s breath catches in his throat, anyway, a dead giveaway. “see?”

“fine,” ryeowook admits, and he manages to keep any traces of anger out of his voice, but judging by the strain it’s a near miss. “i’m… upset. but i don’t even understand _why_ , so i don’t—i don’t know. i don’t think i should be upset.”

“but you are,” kyuhyun pushes.

“i am.”

“you won’t tell me why?”

“tomorrow,” ryeowook concedes. “when you’re sober and i’m—less confused, hopefully.”

kyuhyun swallows, uncertain he can wait that long. “promise me you won’t work yourself up over it. whatever it is.”

ryeowook smiles, an uneasy but precious thing. “i won’t.”

***

sometimes if ryeowook didn’t shine so bright, kyuhyun might suspect him of being a black hole, namely in the way the universe seems to bend around him, caving to his will, eager to cater to his every whim.

maybe kyuhyun only sees it like that because it’s _his_ universe too; where ryeowook goes, kyuhyun follows, and vice versa. they see the same people, day in and day out, make the same friends and the same stupid jokes, and so kyuhyun is always there to bear witness to the effect that ryeowook has on the people around them.

and the worst of it, besides the fact that kyuhyun is horribly and irreparably just like the rest of them, is that ryeowook doesn’t even seem to notice.

ryeowook is looking at him. it’s that steady, unwavering look that says that even while the rest of the world is watching him, ryeowook has eyes only for kyuhyun. kyuhyun breathes and feels whole, knitted together again under ryeowook’s care.

it’s stupid. all of it. kyuhyun doesn’t like to be spotted or called out for what he is—a romantic, in truth, although he hates to admit it because ryeowook is enough of one for the both of them—but it always gets to him in the end.

***

kyuhyun has this dream where he manages to avoid the spotlights for long enough to leave. he plans it out, in his head, sometimes. how long would it take him to pack? how far through the airport could he get before someone recognized him? how many cities could he see before someone dragged him back?

all the answers are unsatisfying; kyuhyun is, despite his romantic streak, far too practical to indulge in the fantasy for long. he’d never make it as far as his front door, much less the airport. much less the cities he dreams of seeing, one day, unhindered by film crews and audiences and flashing lights.

***

“let’s just go,” ryeowook murmurs, one day, a little tipsy but not so far gone as to be unaware of his own words. kyuhyun should know.

“go where?” kyuhyun prompts, indulgent in ryeowook’s fantasies if not his own.

“anywhere,” ryeowook replies, breathless, and his tone of voice, as always, gives him away. he’s spent just as much time thinking about this as kyuhyun has. he probably dedicates one of his many preciously guarded notebooks just to keeping a list of all the monuments he wants to see one day. still, kyuhyun’s not prepared for ryeowook to keep talking. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

it’s one thing to know it. it’s a whole other beast to hear the words spoken aloud. 

***

when kyuhyun was nineteen years old, he’d barely ever left seoul. he’d seen pictures of the stars, in textbooks mostly, while his tutors quizzed him on the finer details of something kyuhyun would probably never see in his life. it was difficult to imagine that there was anywhere in the world where the stars shone as brightly as they did in the pictures, but there must have been one. at least one place. the pictures had to come from somewhere, after all.

***

when kyuhyun was nineteen years old, he met a boy who might have been a star, or a fallen one, or perhaps the keeper of the stars. difficult to tell, with his bright eyes and endearing smile. 

***

“you said i suit fairytale concepts,” ryeowook says, twisting this way and that in the mirror. his voice lilts like a question even though he doesn’t phrase it like one. rather than bother with turning around, kyuhyun just stares at the mirror, folding the corner of a page down to mark his place without looking, hoping ryeowook notices his attention undivided. ryeowook does, of course, because if there’s one constant in life kyuhyun can count on, it’s this.

“i did,” kyuhyun replies, uncertain what this has to do with anything. ryeowook frowns in displeasure while the stylists fuss over him, touching up hair and makeup and fiddling with the details of his outfit all at once. they know him too well to take the expression personally, which is probably for the best. ryeowook doesn’t say anything else, either, not until the cloud of stylists has declared him finished and then vanished.

“why?”

kyuhyun nearly chokes on his coffee. “why?”

ryeowook only nods. kyuhyun catches his breath, focusing on bringing his heart rate down to normal—a feat only accomplished in ryeowook’s presence thanks to years of practice and familiarity. he’s stalling for time and they both know it, but kyuhyun doesn’t know how to explain that he’s loved ryeowook like he’s loved the stars for fourteen years now, and nothing else has ever even come close.

“it suits you,” kyuhyun finally says. it’s not an explanation by any means, and his voice sounds strangled even to his own ears, but it at least gets ryeowook to finally meet his eyes in the mirror.

“okay,” ryeowook says, and that’s that.

***

2008\. beijing. hands slid, steady and warm, over kyuhyun’s shoulders, ryeowook’s weight resting solid against him. “you need to sleep.”

kyuhyun had his forehead pressed against the glass, and he’d been there so long that the glass was no longer cold despite it being mid-winter in strange city, in a classy hotel with questionable central heating. he didn’t bother to explain himself, either. ryeowook knew his habits, so there was no point to it. besides, if ryeowook felt the need to interrupt him, it meant kyuhyun had lost more time searching than he’d thought.

“i want to see it,” kyuhyun murmured. “someday.”

“it?”

“everything.”

ryeowook nodded understanding against kyuhyun’s back, and then lifted his head enough to whisper into his shoulder: “i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but i doubt the stars will reveal themselves to you in beijing, of all places.”

kyuhyun knew this. reluctantly, he followed ryeowook to bed.

***

“you’re hopeless,” ryeowook tells him. kyuhyun silently agrees, but if there’s anything he hates, it’s admitting ryeowook is right about anything.

“about what?” jongwoon asks, and then with a glance at kyuhyun amends himself: “this time, anyway.”

“rude,” kyuhyun replies. “besides, you have to admit it’s at least kind of interesting.”

“it is,” ryeowook says.

jongwoon rolls his eyes. “your opinion is automatically void, ryeowook.” ryeowook frowns at him. “what? you’re just saying it because _he’s_ interested. when’s the last time you ever voluntarily picked up a book about the fucking _agricultural revolution_?”

it’s kyuhyun’s turn to frown. ryeowook pokes his cheek and then says, in a tone that gives away his pout immediately on the off chance that someone _weren’t_ looking at him, “i like listening to kyuhyunnie talk about it.”

“oh, for god’s sake,” jungsoo says, inviting himself into the room. “what have you done to him now, jongwoon?”

jongwoon throws his hands up in defeat and walks away.

***

album preparations are a whirlwind of activity, from picking out songs to the jacket shoot to the inevitably short promotions. kyuhyun feels a little bad for his indecision over the whole thing, like he can’t quite decide how much of himself he wants to invest into it. he’s torn between throwing himself into it entirely and his not-quite-boredom of it all.

it’s how he ends up on ryeowook’s floor at five pm on a wednesday afternoon. in _incheon_ , of all fucking places. incheon, which should be close enough—more than close enough—but still most days it feels achingly far away. like it’s tearing into him, somehow.

ryeowook’s parents had taken one look at kyuhyun, sprawled on their living room floor, and decided to go on an impromptu date night. it’s probably for the best. kyuhyun’s still not sure how he feels about _ryeowook_ witnessing his current breakdown, and ryeowook’s witnessed every other unsavory part of his life so far and never flinched. anyway, kyuhyun’s already here, in incheon, so there’s no use in worrying about it now.

“and yet here you are,” ryeowook says, alerting kyuhyun to the fact that he’s been speaking aloud for god knows how long, “worrying about it.”

“i hate you so much,” kyuhyun groans. ryeowook prods his toes into kyuhyun’s ribs, gentle but insistent, until kyuhyun rolls over to stare at the ceiling.

“i made tea,” ryeowook says. kyuhyun reluctantly sits up. “so. a break, huh?”

kyuhyun doesn’t reply. they are, in fact, on a company-mandated break, ostensibly because they’ve been working so hard the last year or so, but they all know better. especially because the last order had been _no music_ , while the various members’ variety shows went unaddressed, which makes the orders feel awfully targeted. 

“we could just leave,” ryeowook adds. it’s not the most useful suggestion in the world, but it’s not the first time they’ve talked about it. hell, it’s not even the first time they’ve talked about it as more than just a wistful fantasy.

it is, however, the first time he’s ever felt like pushing the fantasy as far as it would go, rather than talking ryeowook off the edge again. “can we?”

ryeowook smiles, a sweet and precious thing. “who’s going to stop us?”

kyuhyun outright laughs. it’s such a silly question, because there’s perhaps a hundred people who could easily stand in their way if they found out, but ryeowook’s real question is _who is going to know?_ and the answer is, either way, no one at all. at least, not until they’re too far away for it to matter.

***

ryeowook, unsurprisingly, takes the orders of _no music, rest only,_ a little too hard.

kyuhyun had known he would, but that doesn’t make reality any easier to handle. especially not when it presents itself like this: ryeowook, barely eating; ryeowook, who lives and breathes for music, who’s barely touched his piano or a pencil in a month. 

“no one’s stopping you from writing,” kyuhyun says. ryeowook huffs, a sound that comes out crackly and even airier than usual through the phone speaker. “what?”

“i know you’re right,” ryeowook says. kyuhyun can imagine him sprawled out on his bed, probably unintentionally threatening the life of some poor stuffed animal. “i just haven’t felt like doing it.”

“maybe you should try,” kyuhyun suggests, as kindly as he can. “you’re kind of driving me crazy right now, so the other option can’t be much worse.”

***

the other option is, as it turns out, much worse. kyuhyun has a number of best-friend-privileges, one of which is near-unlimited access to ryeowook’s writing process, which means he gets to see all the lyrics, all the turns of phrase and strings of words that come into ryeowook’s head only to be rejected, too messy or dark or unseemly for a pretty idol boy to sing about.

it’s not typically cause for concern. ryeowook pulls inspiration from wherever he can find it, and he’s the kind of person who sees art everywhere, who could see a bit of graffiti at a bus station and tease a poem out of it.

this is different, for a number of reasons—the most primary being the sheer number of words and lines that have been scribbled out. ryeowook has very few rules for himself when it comes to writing, and one of those is not to cross anything out—anything might be usable again later, if not now.

what little kyuhyun can make out is centered on drowning, suffocation, death. more direct than ryeowook usually is, even in his darker moments. kyuhyun’s chest feels tight with anxiety, but it takes him an extra minute to separate that, inflicted as it is by ryeowook’s gift for words, from his actual feelings, which amount to little more than sadness and a sort of heart-aching concern.

***

none of them are strangers to the occasional downward spiral, but kyuhyun’s always had trouble trusting ryeowook to pull himself back up again.

***

“sorry,” ryeowook murmurs, pushing clothes off the end of his bed to make space for kyuhyun. “i’m not—i wasn’t expecting anyone.”

kyuhyun is perfectly aware of this, since he’d deliberately not told ryeowook he’d be visiting. “your mom let me in. i would’ve called.”

ryeowook fumbles in the sheets for a minute and comes up with his phone, which is about as useful as a brick. kyuhyun assumes ryeowook hasn’t bothered to charge it recently. “sorry.”

kyuhyun manages not to roll his eyes. “talk to me?”

“you remember that night yunho called me?” kyuhyun frowns, because this isn’t what he expected ryeowook would want to talk about. ryeowook interprets his silence as confusion and elaborates, “maybe not. you were pretty drunk.”

“i remember,” kyuhyun says, because although they’ve never talked about it, he still distinctly remembers the terror he’d felt. ryeowook had assured him there was nothing to worry about, though, so kyuhyun had done his best to let it go. “is it still bothering you?”

“no,” ryeowook says. it’s such a blatant lie that kyuhyun is surprised ryeowook found the nerve to say it. “i just thought you deserved to know what was said.”

kyuhyun breathes. ryeowook traces his fingers over the pattern of his duvet.

“yunho was… concerned,” he finally says. “from what changmin told him, it sounded like you… came onto him.”

his gaze flicks up to kyuhyun for the first time since kyuhyun’s arrival, searching for confirmation. “i don’t remember.”

ryeowook shrugs, as if he’d expected that, but he looks away again. “it wasn’t anything serious, supposedly. you know. the normal complaints about young male virility, or something.” his voice tips strangely over almost every word in the sentence. “anyway, you said you’d be down for, i don’t know, casual sex or something. at least that’s the impression changmin got.”

kyuhyun forces himself to breathe. it explains a lot, up to and including changmin’s avoidance of conversation topics that had previously been fair game, but it doesn’t explain anything about ryeowook, then or now.

 _then_ is easier to address than _now_. “why did it upset you so much?”

“it didn’t,” ryeowook says automatically. he closes his eyes. “maybe it did. i don’t know.”

kyuhyun waits. when ryeowook doesn’t immediately elaborate, kyuhyun pushes himself off the bed. “i’ll go make tea.”

when he gets back, two fresh mugs of tea in hand, ryeowook is sitting up and looking mildly more present.

“let’s go somewhere,” he says suddenly.

kyuhyun hands him a mug. “where would we go?”

“anywhere,” ryeowook says. he cradles the mug in his hands, insulated by the sleeves of his sweater, and looks up at kyuhyun. “i can’t be _here_ anymore. i don’t…”

kyuhyun squeezes ryeowook’s ankle. “it’s okay.”

“i can’t trust myself,” ryeowook admits, and his voice catches in his throat. kyuhyun can barely breathe. “i don’t know what to do.”

“so let’s go somewhere,” kyuhyun says. at ryeowook’s incredulous look, he adds, “it’s like you said. who the hell is going to stop us?”


	2. journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've been waiting for this chapter, i want to thank you for being so patient. i actually had it mostly finished when i posted the first chapter, so i didn't think it would take so long, but i realized i wasn't happy with it, so i began a rewrite, and then a lot of things happened seemingly all at once, and i haven't felt much like writing recently.
> 
> also: i want to take a minute to express my complete and wholehearted support for ryeowook and ari. i am beyond happy for them, and i want nothing for them but their happiness in each other. one of the major deterrents for me in writing this was the fandom's reaction with respect to their ships. maybe i sound like i'm being too negative, but even jokes like "this ship is dead now" felt in poor taste, at best.
> 
> but i'm here now, with this, and although i can't guarantee when the final chapter will come, i promise that it will. this chapter was longer than i intended it to be, and far more deeply personal than i expected (hence the selection of cities present), and i expect the next chapter to be similarly personal to me. anyway, thank you for reading!

ryeowook waits until their plane lands in vienna before telling anyone about their trip. he steps off to the side, letting people flow past him, and calls jongwoon. 

jongwoon picks up on the second ring. it sounds as busy on his end as it presumably is on ryeowook’s. “where the hell are you?”

“i could ask you the same,” ryeowook says, although jongwoon is at a cafe somewhere in seoul, probably, while ryeowook is a whole continent away.

“mouse rabbit,” jongwoon says. “your turn.”

“the airport,” ryeowook says, steeling himself for the worst of it and bulldozing over jongwoon’s sharp intake of breath. “in vienna.”

“are you _insane_?” jongwoon snaps. his background noise suddenly drops off. ryeowook doesn’t blame him. if he were in jongwoon’s place, he wouldn’t exactly want an audience for this.

“fuck, ryeowook, what the hell are you thinking?”

“i was thinking i couldn’t be there anymore,” ryeowook hedges. “i needed out, and kyuhyun convinced me this was the better of my two options.”

jongwoon exhales, hard, and ryeowook guesses he’s torn between yelling at ryeowook or conceding. in the end, he chooses the latter. “at least tell me he’s with you.”

“of course he is.” ryeowook hasn’t stopped looking at him, leaning against the wall a few meters away with their passports in hand, suitcases next to him waiting for ryeowook to return. “i’m not stupid.”

jongwoon makes a noise like he’d love to argue. “so you’re really doing this.”

“well, we weren’t doing anything else.” jongwoon makes another disapproving noise. “sorry. we’ll be safe. can you maybe not tell anyone?”

“ryeowook—”

“i know it’s asking a lot, hyung, but i—” ryeowook cuts himself off, suddenly uncertain. “i think i really need this. and i’m telling you, because we decided someone should know, but you… you’re the only one who wouldn’t make us come home.”

jongwoon snorts. “i wish i could.”

“thank you, hyung,” ryeowook says, and doesn’t think he’s ever said the sentence and meant it more than he does right now. “we’ll bring you back so many gifts, i promise.”

“you two are all i need,” jongwoon says. “be good. be safe. come home when you’re done.”

“you know i will.”

jongwoon bids him goodbye and ryeowook closes the gap between himself and kyuhyun, leaving a scant few centimeters between them. he could dismantle that gap in the space of a breath, of a single heartbeat, and something inside him does a little flip when it remembers there is no one here to tell him not to.

“got what you needed?” kyuhyun asks, handing ryeowook’s passport over. ryeowook hums affirmatively, rescuing his suitcase from kyuhyun as well. “let’s go, then.”

***

“the point of this trip,” kyuhyun says with a hint of impatience, “was to get you to stop overthinking.”

“the point of this trip was to see the world without anyone else’s interference,” ryeowook corrects, but he does tear his gaze off the skyline. he finds kyuhyun watching him, as usual, and immediately forgets everything else he was planning to say.

kyuhyun looks at the horizon, an endless plain of buildings sprawling below them. with every passing moment, ryeowook stumbles his way a little deeper into this mess. kyuhyun’s side profile is so perfectly illuminated, glowing in the sunset, that it’s not unlike a drama scene when he asks, “what are you looking for?”

ryeowook’s breath hitches. it’s on the tip of his tongue, the name of one monument or another they could plausibly see from this particular rooftop, but he can’t make himself say it—not when they both know that’s not what kyuhyun means. “i don’t know, yet.”

kyuhyun looks sideways at him, so devastatingly honest that ryeowook feels paralyzed by it. “let me know when you find it.”

***

“i think i was scared,” ryeowook admits. kyuhyun looks at him and waits, patient as ever, for ryeowook to find his words. “i don’t know. i don’t have any claim over your life, or what you do, or anything, but the idea of him having any part of you that i couldn’t…”

he falters. there’s a moment, so brief and so subtle that any other observer on the planet would miss the distinction, where kyuhyun’s entire being orients itself toward ryeowook, and suddenly ryeowook can breathe again.

“i kept thinking, what does he have that i don’t?” ryeowook looks away. a lone car drives past, splashing rainwater up onto the curb. he shakes his head and looks back at kyuhyun to ground himself. “i didn’t want to lose you. that’s all.”

kyuhyun stares at him, one hand coming up to frame ryeowook’s face, too intimate for such a public setting, and the look on his face is—strange. reverent, perhaps, is a good word, mixed with this expression of revelation that makes it look like he’s seeing ryeowook for the first time—or in a new light.

“you could never lose me,” kyuhyun promises. all at once, he seems to remember where they are. he drops his hand, but deliberates over words for another minute before settling on, “my life is yours.”

ryeowook’s whole world grinds to a halt in those four words, dismantling and rebuilding itself in an entirely new context, and it’s so disorienting that ryeowook has to close his eyes to stop the spinning sensation. when he opens them again, it’s as if kyuhyun doesn’t even realize the gravity of what he’s just said.

“are we okay?” kyuhyun presses. ryeowook manages a nod, if nothing else.

***

the thing is, it’s not exactly news to ryeowook. he’s known, always, what he is to kyuhyun and what kyuhyun is to him, but it’s different to put it into words. ryeowook is accustomed to the sixteen years of impeccable self-control, where falling in love would mean—for him at least—career suicide. so he’s always put those thoughts in the back of his mind, buried under everything else that normal people are supposed to worry about but ryeowook doesn’t have room for. and he’s let himself value kyuhyun above all else, to an extent, but to put words to those feelings would absolutely shatter the amount of effort—however subconscious—that it takes to keep himself in line.

kyuhyun is no different. there are things they don’t talk about, because talking would be akin to unleashing the beast, and it’s easier most days to glance past it. _my life is yours_ is in complete and total opposition to everything ryeowook’s built up over the better part of two decades, and ryeowook’s not strong enough to pretend it didn’t happen.

***

rome is difficult. or, as kyuhyun had so charmingly put it, likely to torture ryeowook into an early grave.

it’s a lovely city, and it’s always been on ryeowook’s list of places to see, but it’s the second city they’ve seen and it’s only been three days since their impulsive decision to flee the country, and when ryeowook breathes, he fractures. it’s hard to let himself be free, and so their lack of a plan bears down on him harder than anything else about this trip. he thinks about taking their first day off, to hide in the hotel room and come up with a plan, but kyuhyun would never allow it.

so they go to the colosseum at kyuhyun’s insistence, and ten complete strangers ask kyuhyun to take a picture of them and their family in four different languages. it’s refreshing, somehow. ryeowook is so used to one side of the camera lens, and he finds he quite likes seeing kyuhyun on the other side of it.

“smile,” kyuhyun says, for the hundredth time today, redundant since ryeowook hasn’t _stopped_ smiling, too giddy with freedom to control himself. kyuhyun snaps another picture of him.

“stop,” ryeowook says, although he doesn’t quite mean it. “i’m supposed to be on vacation.”

“these are different,” kyuhyun insists, and takes another picture. ryeowook shoves him.

***

they take the train to the ruins of pompeii, one day, because kyuhyun was willing to indulge ryeowook in one day of planning, and no more, and this was the furthest away ryeowook was willing to go in a single day. he rattles off history facts the whole time, and kyuhyun lets him. more than _lets_ him; most of the time it feels like he’s actively encouraging it, with questions about what they’re looking at or what ryeowook’s saying, and whatever answers ryeowook doesn’t have are contained in the little guidebook they’d bought at the entrance.

kyuhyun very politely hadn’t said anything when ryeowook lingered a little too long over the casts in the museum, which ryeowook is grateful for. he’s not sure, if kyuhyun asked, whether he’d be able to explain the knife-twisting sensation he felt.

a very noticeable breakdown on the stage of what used to be a theater, though, is a little different and far more difficult to leave unaddressed.

“ryeowook-ah,” kyuhyun says, rubbing awkward circles into ryeowook’s back. it’s almost enough to make ryeowook laugh, because this is a man who has no trouble standing on a stage in front of tens of thousands of people, but normal human emotions terrify him to no end. as it is, he hiccups, which is enough to interrupt the rhythm of hyperventilation; ryeowook sucks in a ragged breath, as deep as he can, and presses the heels of his palms against his eyelids so hard that constellations burst across his vision. “ryeowook-ah, you’re scaring me.”

“sorry,” ryeowook grits out. another hiccup. “i don’t know—”

he chokes on a breath, and kyuhyun abandons the back-rubbing in favor of a real hug, which is probably for the best. held in his arms, ryeowook is shielded from the outside world, as well as he could ever be with a life like theirs, and it’s safe.

“it’s okay,” kyuhyun assures him, and the edge of pain to his voice says that either he does understand, completely, or he’s gone and psychoanalyzed ryeowook again and doesn’t like what he came back with. which is, ryeowook supposes, still a _type_ of understanding.

“i’m okay,” ryeowook says. he wipes viciously at his eyes. “i don’t know what got into me. i’m sorry.”

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” kyuhyun says. ryeowook’s not sure if the subtle rocking motions are conscious or not, but he’s not complaining. “you just scared me, that’s all, but you’re okay.”

“i didn’t mean to freak you out,” ryeowook says, and plows straight through kyuhyun’s _i know you didn’t_ to add, “there was just—this moment, i guess, where i felt like i could imagine… i don’t know. everything. people lived here, you know? real people. we’ll never know anything about them except their dying moments, but for a minute i thought—it felt like i knew them.”

kyuhyun’s arms tighten around ryeowook, and he plants the most subtle kiss possible to the top of ryeowook’s head. “that’s what i was afraid you’d say.”

“stop reading my mind if you don’t like what you see,” ryeowook says.

***

it’s paris that reminds ryeowook how much he dislikes crowds. the reminder doesn’t do a lot for his already fragile emotional state. he curls his hands around his coffee cup and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, uneasy in the cold. he isn’t willing to give in to this particular anxiety, not now, when they have a real plan for the day and ryeowook’s a _celebrity_ , for god’s sake, he should be used to people by now—

“you okay?” kyuhyun asks.

ryeowook looks up at him, and for a moment he considers lying. it’s always his first impulse, after all, to protect everyone around him from himself, but kyuhyun has never needed that shield. and ryeowook is trying to be more honest, to him if no one else.

“i don’t know,” he says eventually. “there are—a lot of people.”

kyuhyun studies him. “let’s walk?”

they walk. kyuhyun frees one arm for ryeowook, which ryeowook clings to, keen on avoiding separation as kyuhyun guides them through noisy streets and throngs of people, locals and tourists alike. they bypass the louvre entirely, and ryeowook is torn briefly between his plan and his anxiety. before he gets the chance to decide, the museum is well behind them.

“where are we going?”

“it’s a surprise,” kyuhyun replies. he slows down when they reach a park, though, the grounds near-empty, tinged with a sort of gloomy gray. for a moment ryeowook considers letting go, but he likes the warmth and the assurance of kyuhyun’s proximity. 

their path through the gardens can only be described as _meandering_ ; they both have more than enough time to finish their coffees, and kyuhyun breaks away from him to take a number of pictures of plants to send to donghae for no discernible reason, but he comes back every time, a truth that feels like a salve on ryeowook’s frayed nerves even as the cold knifes through him with every breath.

“it’s a museum,” kyuhyun says, directing ryeowook’s attention to the building they’re approaching. “i read about it while we were both doing our research yesterday. the reviews i saw said it’s usually less crowded than the more popular museums. probably because it’s less known and smaller and, you know, only houses paintings by monet, so it wouldn’t really appeal to people who don’t like impressionism, but i thought—you might. like it, i mean.”

ryeowook stares at him, and kyuhyun stares right back, cheeks flushed pink from cold or embarrassment, ryeowook can’t tell. if they were alone—truly alone—he might have found the nerve to kiss him, tiptoes and everything, like some sort of over-the-top drama scene. 

he’s every inch the celebrity he was raised to be, though, and he’s not stupid. even here, with not a person in sight, their surroundings are too open to leave them anything but exposed.

kyuhyun nods. not for the first time, ryeowook wonders whether those nods mean kyuhyun understands everything perfectly, or whether he’s decided it doesn’t _really_ matter, in the end.

“let’s go inside,” kyuhyun murmurs. his voice barely carries over the wind, but ryeowook hears it, and it’s all he needs.

***

ryeowook locks himself in the bathroom, once they return to their hotel room, and he leaves the shower running while he cries because he _can’t_ admit to anyone, not even kyuhyun, just how awful everything feels right now. he’s not even sure he _could_ explain, if someone asked. how kyuhyun can always see right through him, the way his heart had sung when kyuhyun fumbled his way through his explanation about the museum and the exhausting joy of being so understood. how _badly_ he’d wanted to kiss kyuhyun right there in the middle of the exhibit, witnesses be damned.

but he hadn’t. it’s possible that everything in ryeowook’s life boils down to this: he can’t ever be _normal_. he will never have the chance to kiss the love of his life casually, in public, in all the ways that he wants to. and, _god_ , does he want to. it’s always there, a sort of aching, burning desire in museum galleries, in parks, in restaurants where couples hold hands across the table and stare, endeared, at each other over the soft light of a candle.

how long has he been waiting to break down like this? how long has he been pretending this doesn’t bother him nearly as much as it does? surely he’d never thought this much about it at nineteen, but that’s how he ended up in this mess in the first place. maybe if he’d known then, he wouldn’t have signed anything.

then again, maybe he would have. it’s hard to know, now that he has one dream in the palm of his hands, and as a result can never truly hold onto the other. ryeowook doesn’t really have any idea what he would’ve chosen, if he’d seen both lives laid out in front of him all those years ago. maybe he would’ve made the same choice.

***

real life—insofar as their lives could be called real—catches up with them in amsterdam. ryeowook rocks to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, earning them more than a few disgruntled mutters from passersby. kyuhyun stares at him, but ryeowook can’t find the words; he turns his phone around so kyuhyun can see the caller id.

“answer it,” kyuhyun says, guiding ryeowook by the arm to the edge of the canal, out of everyone’s way. ryeowook picks up the call.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” jungsoo snaps immediately. ryeowook flinches.

“hyung—”

“don’t play stupid now, ryeowook. jongwoon already told me what you’re up to.”

“don’t be mad at him,” ryeowook interjects as jungsoo inhales, ready to launch into his tirade. “i asked him not to say anything.”

jungsoo sighs. “i’m not that evil. he’s got nothing to do with your transgressions.”

ryeowook winces again, half-debating how much more trouble he’d be in if he hung up.

“give me that.” ryeowook places the phone in kyuhyun’s waiting hand. “hyung? hey. what? yeah, of course i am. why wouldn’t i be?”

ryeowook turns away. a boat cruises slowly down the canal, one of those dinner cruise boats decorated from head to heel in flowers, set up with tables for two and flickering candles and soft music. ryeowook’s chest feels tight. he focuses on the cobblestones under his feet instead.

“i think you’re overreacting,” kyuhyun says. ryeowook sucks air in through his teeth. “what is that supposed to mean? we’ve checked in with jongwoon hyung every single day since we left, and—well, you would’ve heard if something had happened, wouldn’t you?”

“i didn’t give you my phone so you could _argue_ with him,” ryeowook hisses. kyuhyun backs up to keep ryeowook from reclaiming the phone call.

“someone has to stand up for you.” ryeowook huffs, but he can’t exactly win this kind of fight with kyuhyun when kyuhyun has a significant height advantage that he has no qualms about utilizing. “what’s that, hyung? no. we don’t know when we’ll be home. we don’t have plans. no, you can’t. mhm. we can keep you updated, if you want. yeah. love you too.”

kyuhyun hands ryeowook’s phone back, call already disconnected. ryeowook breathes. the dinner cruise is out of sight, now, taking with it the romantic music. someone babbles loudly in dutch on the phone, and kyuhyun scans the street for its source, but ryeowook can’t quite look away from kyuhyun. the dusk plays strangely across his face, and ryeowook can’t resist the urge to trace the patterns of light over the bridge of his nose. this brings kyuhyun’s attention right back to him, so quickly that ryeowook can’t be certain it was ever really gone. he drops his hand.

“he’s just worried about you,” kyuhyun says softly. “he comes across as harsh, yeah, but he’s just worked himself up over his anxiety.”

“i know,” ryeowook says, although knowing the truth has never made it any easier to handle.

***

it’s not the first time they’ve been to new york, but they’ve never been like this, with complete and total freedom. it’s exhilarating and terrifying. ryeowook stands in the middle of times square and turns in a circle, taking in all the lights and the people. kyuhyun pulls him out of the way of a street vendor looking particularly hungry for customers. 

“teuk hyung says to take pictures,” he says, only half paying attention. ryeowook huffs.

“i’ve _been_ taking pictures. oh, can we go to the empire state building?”

“you just looked up a list of things to do in new york,” kyuhyun accuses. not that he’s wrong. there’s not much in new york that appeals to ryeowook’s personal tastes, so when kyuhyun had bregrudgingly allowed him to come up with a list of things to do— _but no planning, kim ryeowook_ —ryeowook had turned to the internet. “since when do you care about the empire state building?”

ryeowook does another little turn, ignoring him. one of the billboards changes with a shuttering animation, revealing an advertisement for a broadway musical. all at once ryeowook’s heart hurts. 

“hey,” kyuhyun says, nudging him. “let’s just walk around for now, okay? we’ve got plenty of time.”

“i miss it,” ryeowook says, unable to stop himself, and he drops his gaze in time to see kyuhyun following his attention to the billboard. kyuhyun makes a soft little ‘oh’ noise. “sorry.”

“it’s not…” kyuhyun turns again to look at him. “don’t worry about it.”

it’s sort of in ryeowook’s nature to worry about it, but he lets kyuhyun steer him up toward central park without argument. the park is strangely empty, at least compared to what ryeowook might expect for a city of new york’s magnitude. kyuhyun stops them, eventually, at the edge of a pond. ryeowook stares while kyuhyun kneels in the grass and unpacks a blanket and an assortment of prepackaged snacks.

“when did you even have time to prepare this?”

“last night while you were in the shower,” kyuhyun replies. “sit down.”

ryeowook sits. kyuhyun watches him, expectant; a million things race through ryeowook’s mind at once, but at the forefront of his thoughts is just how badly he wants to kiss kyuhyun. it would be absolutely insane for any number of reasons, not least of which is the fact that even half the world away there is no guarantee of their anonymity; anyone in the park might recognize them, and it’s a risk they can’t afford to take.

kyuhyun hands ryeowook a water bottle. “what are you thinking about?”

“you,” ryeowook replies. kyuhyun wrinkles his nose, but when he rests his hand on the blanket it’s only a breath away from ryeowook’s.

***

there’s a moment, waiting for their train, surrounded by the oppressive atmosphere of ugly concrete subway tunnels. kyuhyun runs the pad of his finger along the very edge of their metrocard, and no one ever looks their best under the harshness of fluorescent lights but kyuhyun is still stunning.

warmth floods through ryeowook’s veins. he will never love anyone more than this.

kyuhyun looks up at him. “what?”

ryeowook shakes his head, unable to answer.

***

they go to the museum of modern art. kyuhyun’s reluctance to allow ryeowook to plan anything besides flights and hotels in advance means that, when he does indulge him, ryeowook is the one to do all the research, and he gets advance knowledge of ways to burrow a little deeper into kyuhyun’s heart.

not that he needs it.

ryeowook lingers over nearly every piece, but he’s also well aware that kyuhyun sees right through him. there’s only so much he can do to hide things from a boy who knows him like his favorite song. kyuhyun’s barely audible oh is completely worth the secrecy. kyuhyun’s eyes are glued to the _starry night_ , but ryeowook can’t take his eyes off kyuhyun. he knows kyuhyun is _like him_ , this same familiar, smothered desperation reflected back at him every time their eyes meet. it’s one thing to know it’s there, and another to see it dragged to the surface this way. ryeowook takes advantage of the crowd to squeeze kyuhyun’s hand. kyuhyun squeezes back.

“if i were a painter,” he whispers, “i don’t think i’d ever paint anything else.”

“i wouldn’t blame you,” ryeowook whispers back. a thought occurs to him. “when you said that concepts like stars and nighttime and fairytales suited me…”

kyuhyun’s grip becomes a vice on ryeowook’s hand. “i wasn’t lying.”

it’s a confession, of sorts, even if kyuhyun can’t acknowledge it yet. ryeowook doesn’t need to rush him, not when he’s got the whole world right here in his hands. “i know.”

***

san francisco instills very little else besides panic. it’s beautiful, like everything else, but ryeowook can’t shake the feeling that they are running out of time.

the city drops away under his feet, streets steep and dizzying and terrifying, and kyuhyun holds his hand without thinking twice about it, and fog chokes the air and obscures their vision and the only thing ryeowook knows is this: he’s not ready to give this up.

***

“i want to do something,” kyuhyun says. ryeowook looks up at him; his expression is so deadly serious that ryeowook puts his book aside immediately, standing up and meeting kyuhyun in the middle of the hotel room without hesitation. “i think—you’re better at this than i am. the feelings thing. i think you’ve known for far longer. i think we’re on the same page now, though.”

“you know we are,” ryeowook whispers. kyuhyun closes the gap between them, palms pressed to ryeowook’s cheeks. it’s not like ryeowook has any doubts about what comes next, but it’s still a shock to his system when kyuhyun’s lips touch his.

he twists one hand in kyuhyun’s shirt, the other arm looped around kyuhyun’s neck to pull him closer. it’s not a particularly deep kiss, by any means—ryeowook’s had casual flings involving more intense kissing—but he’s still breathless by the time kyuhyun tilts his head away. ryeowook rocks up onto his toes to follow him as far as he can, but has to settle for resting his forehead on kyuhyun’s shoulder and taking deep, steadying breaths.

“do you have any idea,” kyuhyun murmurs, “how long i’ve wanted to do that for?”

“hopefully as long as i have,” ryeowook whispers back, but he can’t help but think about how insane it is that _this_ is what it took for them to get here: halfway around the world, on a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave behind everything and everyone they know for as long as they can. 

he lifts his head and finds kyuhyun staring at him. ryeowook isn’t a fan of attention, but being the center of kyuhyun’s universe never gets old.

kyuhyun’s fingers brush his cheek again. “sometimes i still can’t believe you’re real.”

“careful,” ryeowook says. “your feelings are showing.”

“i’d hope so,” kyuhyun says, and kisses him again.

***

kyuhyun side-eyes him suspiciously when ryeowook—perfectly innocently—suggests hawaii as their next destination.

“you hate beaches,” he points out. “and resorts. what on earth would you do in hawaii?”

“there’s a farmer’s market,” ryeowook says. kyuhyun raises an eyebrow. “history museums. there’s a coffee plantation. or, well, there’s a lot of them, but one specifically that i’d like to see. a botanical garden that’s pretty famous. you could take more pictures for donghae hyung.”

kyuhyun folds. “how long are we staying?”

“just a couple days,” ryeowook promises. “you won’t regret it.”

“didn’t i tell you that you’re not allowed to plan anything?” kyuhyun asks. ryeowook knows it’s a yes, but he manages to keep most of his excitement suppressed.

***

“remind me where we’re going?”

ryeowook hoists himself up into the passenger seat of the jeep and says, “it’s a surprise.”

“how can it be a surprise if i’m the one driving?” kyuhyun asks. “at some point you’re gonna have to tell me.”

“if you haven’t already figured it out, you’re dumber than i gave you credit for,” ryeowook replies. kyuhyun rolls his eyes and starts up the car. ryeowook puts his driving playlist on shuffle and folds his hands in his lap. kyuhyun follows his directions without comment, waiting until they’re well out of town before he rests his hand on ryeowook’s leg. ryeowook tangles their fingers together, heart rate jumping. it feels dangerous.

it _is_ dangerous, ryeowook reminds himself. kyuhyun glances at him, very briefly, but ryeowook is too much of an open book.

“you okay?” he asks.

ryeowook squeezes his hand and doesn’t let go. “no,” he says, carefully. “but i don’t think i want to be.”

kyuhyun squeezes back.

it’s dark by the time they reach their destination: first light bookstore, a little building with telescopes set up in the parking lot, only a little ways down the mountain from the mauna kea observatory. ryeowook steals a little picnic table and kyuhyun returns to him with two cups of hot chocolate; this high up, the chill is beginning to set in, and ryeowook gets to bear witness as kyuhyun tilts his head up to the sky.

it’s magical. ryeowook can think of no better word to describe the moment, the reverence written plainly across kyuhyun’s face, or the thrill down his spine when kyuhyun manages to tear his gaze away and looks at ryeowook again and the emotion never once flinches, the same _i need this to breathe, this is something divine_ expression written everywhere. ryeowook’s chest hurts.

“i love you,” kyuhyun breathes. “so much. you know that, don’t you?”

“i’ve always known,” ryeowook replies. kyuhyun nods, tipping his head back to the sky again, but ryeowook finds that kyuhyun is far more interesting to watch. 

***

it’s the first and only place where kyuhyun doesn’t take a single picture.

***

“i’m going to shower,” kyuhyun says. ryeowook makes vague, immature grabby hands until kyuhyun kisses him again. hotel room. deadbolt locked. safe, secure. “jongwoon might text. you should reply to him.”

he leaves his phone with ryeowook. ryeowook waits until he hears the water start running before unlocking kyuhyun’s phone. he feels settled, now; even though they’re closer now to the end of their trip than they were in san francisco, he no longer feels so panicked about it.

he navigates to kyuhyun’s photos, because there must be hundreds by now and ryeowook hasn’t seen a single one. he scrolls up to the very beginning of their trip and begins to flip through them.

he notices the pattern almost immediately; it’s obvious which are the pictures that were taken for the hyungs’ benefit, bland photos of a monument in full or the proof-of-life selfies the two of them took together. there’s a very stark difference between those and the ones kyuhyun took for himself. 

it’s surreal. ryeowook scrolls through countless detail shots, bits of architecture kyuhyun found particularly appealing and plants sprouting up out of concrete, graffiti on the side of a building and windows the light fell through in a particularly captivating way. all of these are interspersed with photos of ryeowook. he recognizes some of them, the goofy candid shots that kyuhyun had ambushed him into, but others fit more in the theme of kyuhyun’s series of artsy, stunningly genuine photos: ryeowook several meters away, silhouetted by the sunset; his focus on the city below them from the top of the eiffel tower; ryeowook in the middle of a shockingly empty gallery in the louvre. ryeowook barely even recognizes himself in some of them; there’s one from their trip to pompeii, where he wears an intense expression that he’s never seen on his own face before. there’s another from a rooftop in rome where his eyes are closed, and he looks more at peace than he’s ever felt.

the thought hits him like a train: _this is how kyuhyun sees him_. he has to turn kyuhyun’s phone off to try and get himself the space he needs to pull himself together.

it doesn’t work all that well. ryeowook lays there staring at the ceiling for minutes on end, trying to reconcile his own image of himself with this version that kyuhyun sees and clearly loves.

 _kyuhyun loves him_. ryeowook sits straight up as the bathroom door unlocks. when had the water stopped running?

kyuhyun looks at him. his hair is damp and there’s a tiny hole in his t-shirt, just above his collarbone, and ryeowook _doesn’t_ let himself think about the way his sweatpants hang loosely off his hips, and he’s so _perfect_ that ryeowook can barely breathe.

“did jongwoon hyung text?” kyuhyun asks. ryeowook opens his mouth, thinks about formulating a response, but when he tries to speak the only thing that comes out is the tiny beginning of a sob. kyuhyun is on the bed with him in an instant, reaching for his hands and saying, “hey, whoa. is everything okay?”

ryeowook manages not to _throw_ himself at kyuhyun, but it’s a near thing. he hugs kyuhyun, and kyuhyun hugs him back just as fiercely, and the violent storm inside him settles a little. 

***

it’s not that ryeowook is insecure, or anything, except that maybe he kind of is. it’s hard to say, for certain, but there’s no other words for the little jolt of anxiety, or shame, when someone compares him to kyuhyun or jongwoon. 

and ryeowook admits—however reluctantly—that almost two decades spent scrutinizing every detail of himself in the mirror might not have had the healthiest effect on his self-esteem. and they, as a group, tend to look at each other through the same unhealthy lens, because in their industry there’s no other way to survive. it’s safer, far safer, to watch too closely, rather than miss something that might come back to ruin them later.

now ryeowook has tangible proof that whatever lens kyuhyun sees him through is something else entirely. maybe it always has been.

 _kyuhyun loves him_. he repeats it to himself, over and over again, until he falls asleep.

***

“you’re on speaker, hyung,” kyuhyun warns, placing the phone face-up on the bed. ryeowook peers over it to see the caller id, but he needn’t have bothered.

“when are you brats coming home?” heechul asks, almost bulling over kyuhyun’s greeting entirely. ryeowook’s heart floods, impossibly, with warmth; as fun as the past couple months have been, as freeing and exhilarating, ryeowook misses his family. “jungsoo’s getting impatient. anxious. you know how he is, but now he’s starting to act like i’ve got any control over either of you.”

ryeowook looks up at kyuhyun, mostly curious to see if kyuhyun has any response to that. he doesn’t.

“as much as it pains me to admit,” heechul plows on, tone taking on an affected dramaticism, “i have no sway over either of you stubborn assholes. it sucks, you know? even hyukjae listens to me sometimes.”

“i listen to you sometimes,” ryeowook points out.

“that’s not the point,” heechul says. ryeowook can picture him waving his hand dismissively. “i actually called to tell you something. if jungsoo calls, or texts, or tries to pressure you into coming home before you’re ready—you don’t have to listen to him.”

a knot in ryeowook’s lungs loosens itself.

“do you hear me, ryeowook-ah?” heechul presses. “i don’t care what he says to you. i’ll back you up every step of the way. it has to be _your_ choice, or else it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

ryeowook exhales. “i hear you, hyung.”

heechul seems to relax a little upon hearing his voice. “okay. that’s good. you know i love you, right? more than anything. i don’t care if you feel like you’ll never be ready to come home. i don’t care if you decide antarctica is your new home, and that’s where you’re going at the end of all this—self-actualization shit. okay? i love you. i’m always going to love you.”

“i love you too,” ryeowook says, blinking rapidly.

“great,” heechul says. “now, never make me do this sappy shit again. deal?”

ryeowook manages a wet laugh.

***

tokyo is wet. they stick to the slick streets and neon lights, by some sort of unspoken agreement that they don’t need to go further than that. ryeowook thinks maybe it means something that they’re beginning to slow down, that their initial frenetic pace of exploration has settled into something easier, calmer, a little less strung-out.

not that he’s out here trying to make their travels a parallel to their relationship, or anything. ryeowook doesn’t consider himself good enough at writing to pull that one off.

kyuhyun holds his hand and shows him his phone screen. jongwoon’s newest text reads _prep for next album starting. management wants to know if/when you’ll be home_. ryeowook accepts kyuhyun’s phone to type out a reply. he’s found that he quite likes jongwoon’s new habit of referring to him and kyuhyun as one unit; not that they’ve never _not_ been like that, exactly, not with a decade and a half under their belts of being referred to as a pair, as if that were always automatically assumed—but jongwoon’s taken it a step further, recently, seeming to text them as if he knows he’s reaching both of them at once, that either one of them is equally likely to reply.

thinking back on it, ryeowook can’t remember when jongwoon _started_ doing that. he remembers as early as kyuhyun’s return from the military, jongwoon speaking about or to them as if he assumed that where one went, the other would follow, and he wasn’t always exactly wrong.

“hey, space cadet,” kyuhyun says.

ryeowook blinks. without thinking, he replies, “that’s your job.”

kyuhyun squeezes his hand. “you replying to him, or should i?”

“i can do it,” ryeowook says. he starts to type, a little awkward with one hand.

_wait for us. we’re coming home._


End file.
